


Suite for two pianos, op. 5

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Season/Series 05, Prompt Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, cousyfixit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: He’s been playing the same piano piece over the portable CD player for more than an hour, always on repeat.





	Suite for two pianos, op. 5

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



> Written for #cousyfixit!  
> Prompt: [ANYTHING GOES]
> 
> This is one of those fics where Daisy knocks on Coulson's door. It's angsty, but it's a conversation they probably needed to have.

He’s been playing the same piano piece over the portable CD player for more than an hour, always on repeat. Not that she doesn’t like it – she loves it, actually, it’s probably by that Russian composer Coulson loves so much – but it’s not like Coulson to get so hung up on something. To get stuck like this.  
She knocks on his door. Even though he could probably hear her whisper through it – as nice as the motel’s location might be, it doesn’t make up for its poor interior. 

„Daisy?,“ he asks.  
She freezes for a moment. How did he know?  
Very carefully, she opens the door. Its hinges squeak a little.  
He turns around, eyebrows up expectantly. Her eyes are still wide. It takes him a beat to understand her confusion.  
„Well, I mean – I don’t think anyone else is awake.“ He smiles a little, or at least tries to. Of course, Daisy won’t be fooled by it. She knows his smiles too well.  
„Sorry,“ she offers. „I just thought –“  
„No, no, I’m sorry,“ he interrupts, „is the music too loud? I mean these walls are practically made out of paper.“  
She smirks. „No, I love the piece,“ she begins. „But –“  
„But you’d rather try to get some sleep.“  
„Coulson.“

He lets out a long sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose. „I’m sorry, Daisy. I apologize. I’m just a little –“  
He doesn’t finish, sits down on the bed instead.  
„Can I come in?,“ she asks shyly, sneaks in anyway, carefully closing the door behind her. She waits a moment, maybe for him to explain. When he doesn’t elaborate, she slowly approaches the bed, sits on it too.  
„It’s all so –,“ he makes a vague gesture.  
„– much?,“ she tries. Coulson nods.  
„And all the time, right?,“ she continues. He nods again, almost like a little child, definitely at his wits‘ end.  
Daisy touches his shoulder. „I know.“  
He covers her hand with his, but only briefly, as if to make sure the gesture doesn’t offend her.  
„I wish we could just – go back, maybe.“ He sighs.  
„To the base?“  
„Yeah, to the base, or you know, just into the general vicinity of where we ... were.“  
It’s her turn to nod. „We will,“ she says firmly. „But we need more time to come up with a suitable strategy. One that doesn’t involve other dimensions,“ she adds, „I’ve had enough of hitchhiking between realities.“

There it is, a little smirk from him. It feels like such a win to Daisy, they are rare these days.  
„And I’ve had enough especially of hunting down people who think they need to leave and die alone to help others.“  
It burns, she can see it on his face. But she needed to say it, she never got to mention it before.  
She nudges him a little. „Hey. All joking aside. I need you, okay?“  
„I could still die any moment. It could come back anytime.“ His voice sounds a little shaky.  
„It won’t. We’ve made sure of it.“  
„You don’t know that, Daisy.“ It’s the first time he’s really looking into her eyes. She feels like he’s been avoiding it for a reason. As if her eyes could, by themselves, influence his actions.  
„Oh, _I know_ ,“ she says.  
He looks away. She gives him a moment, but if she’s being honest, it’s tearing her apart to see him like this.

„Coulson, you’re not allowed to die.“  
„I don’t want to die. That’s not it.“  
She knows. „I know.“  
After a moment, she softly nudges him again. „I thought I’d never see you again.“ It sounds soft and warm, not at all dramatic. Not reproachful. Her words reverberate in his mind, and suddenly, they sound heartbreaking, because Daisy never thought she was entitled to company.  
He’s furious with himself for forgetting. This is something he _knows_ , damnit. This is something he’s been fighting against in the past, trying to offer her as much of a home as he could. How could he forget.  
„I’m sorry,“ he says again, but it’s not enough, it feels ridiculous to be saying it.  
„No,“ she says. „You’re not sup– You don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for letting you go.“  
„I didn’t see any other way,“ he half-whispers. „I didn’t want you to see it.“  
„I know,“ she replies, her voice quivering a little.  
She softly touches his leg. „Don’t run away again, okay?“  
„I promise,“ he says, his hand covering hers again. He lingers this time, draws it back only after a beat.

They stay like this for a bit, until the piece ends again. The battered CD player struggles to go back to the beginning of the track to repeat it.  
„Can I turn it off?,“ she asks shyly.  
„Sure,“ he says, suddenly a little embarrassed.  
„You really love him, huh?,“ she teases him, stopping the music. „Rachmaninoff.“  
He blushes just a little bit, nods a little.  
She stands there awkwardly for a moment, apparently trying to collect herself, or brace herself for something, he doesn’t know. He worries it is to tell him something bad.

„You know who I love?,“ she says, visibly shaking, her ears a little red. She looks very worried herself, and Coulson feels guilty for making her feel this way.  
It takes her a little too long to answer her own question.  
„You,“ she manages, her voice raspy, her jaw tightened, her hands trembling. She’s said it, but all she wants to do is run, it’s not fair to burden Coulson with that information, not now, not when he’s scared and confused like this, not when he almost died again last week. Not when he’s been clinging to Rachmaninoff’s pieces for two pianos.  
They just stare at each other, both horrified, Daisy unable to look away as he meets her eyes.  
„Is that true?,“ he asks, Daisy almost having to lip-read his words as his voice seems to fail him.  
She nods, tears suddenly in her eyes. That’s when Coulson jumps up, holds her in a tight embrace, and she clings to him as if she were scared he could vanish any second.  
„I love you too,“ he manages, and Daisy cries a little, because this is not at all what she expected. It’s what she wished for him to say, but she’d never have thought he would. It’s wild, and it’s confusing, and it feels like an odd pain in her chest, but it also feels like a huge weight lifted from her shoulders.  
„Thank you,“ she says.

**Author's Note:**

> All I could write was angst. I'm very sorry.  
> Thanks for reading!! ♥
> 
> Coulson is most likely listening to the Barcarolle in G minor from Sergei Rachmaninoff's Suite No. 1 for two pianos ( _Fantaisie-Tableaux_ ), op. 5, written in 1893 (and most probably to the recording made by André Previn and Vladimir Ashkenazy).


End file.
